


Supersize Him

by Soraya (soraya2004), soraya2004



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-10
Updated: 2006-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/Soraya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraya2004/pseuds/soraya2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is hiding a big secret</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supersize Him

  
Aside from the missions off world, Rodney's days on Atlantis were remarkably similar to his days on Earth. He still liked to start each one with something sharp to get his creative juices flowing. Usually, that meant at least two cups of coffee strong enough to strip the paint off walls, followed by an insult for the resident _non Michelin_ chef, whom he was convinced was trying to poison him.

Afterwards, he went to his lab, where he worked until his eyes were gritty from exhaustion. If he was lucky, there was time for lunch; but around what passed for midday on Atlantis, someone almost always touched some piece of equipment they shouldn't have touched, and Rodney had to spend the next several hours saving the day. Later, there were reports to write and people to rebuke, all of which gave him barely enough time to shovel down the sandwich Kusanagi tended to leave at his desk. Which meant that by nightfall, despite a vague hope that things would have miraculously turned out differently, Rodney was tired, and he was irritable, and his blood sugar was very, very low.

So Rodney had to end each day with something sweet, and biting into a thick bar of chocolate was always the best part of any day. Still it was only when he'd been forced into some incredibly dangerous yet heroic feat that he really let himself indulge. Because even though he was one of the few people, who appreciated that true genius needed to be pampered in order to flourish, there simply weren't enough resources on Atlantis for that sort of thing.

In time, he became resigned to this, and he learnt to make do with powerbars instead of premium grade Belgian chocolate. But Rodney promised himself that if he ever managed to get his hands on some really good stuff, he would save _that_ for a special occasion.

***

Every once in a while, a special occasion was nothing more complex than saving the city from the scourge of neophyte PhDs.

In his quarters, Rodney left his clothes lying where they dropped on the floor, and he tried not to think about how morons Black and Chapman almost blew him up with their _fantastic new plan_ to boost power in the naquadah generators. He had a strict rule that his room was an idiot-free zone, which was why no one but him was allowed in there. But, really, where in God's name did the SGC find such morons?

The mere fact that, after six hours, he was _still_ struggling to get them out of his mind told him that today his mission standard powerbar wouldn't be enough. No, Rodney knew that if he didn't indulge himself he was going to go crazy. And his feet were walking him over to his bedside locker before his mind made the conscious decision to break into his secret stash.

He didn't bother raising the lights above dim; this kind of chocolate was best enjoyed in the dark, and besides he knew the shape, colour and texture of each and every single one of those bars from memory. Just the thought of biting into all that thick, rich sweetness was making his toes curl. In fact, the only thing better than eating premium grade chocolate was the knowledge that he'd managed to pry it away from his arch nemesis in the first place.

"God bless the United States military and her soldiers, who have more chocolate than sense," Rodney crowed to himself, rubbing his hands together. In every department he'd ever worked with, there was always one person, who thought they were smart enough to take him down. And really, Cadman of all people should have known better than to try to outsmart him. "But if she _did_ then I wouldn't have you now, would I?" he sighed, reaching out to caress them, curling his fingers round them gently.

They were just as perfect as he remembered, each one unique and beautiful in its own way. He lifted the first one up, out of his locker, and after he broke off a chunk and then placed it on his tongue, thoughts of morons B and C melted away. "God, that's so good," he moaned, helpless in the face of such pure perfection. The scent cradled him in sweetness, the taste rolled off his tongue triggering off a buzz of intense pleasure in his brain, and his body responded with pulses of warmth, which spread like happiness through his veins. His skin felt like it was tingling, every hair on him stood on end, vibrating sweet sensation, and just like that he was seconds away from absolute bliss.

Yet before Rodney could sink into that perfect fantasy moment of swimming in chocolate soup sprinkled with hot blonde physicists, something held him back. Ordinarily, he might have dismissed it as paranoia induced by extreme tiredness. But Rodney reminded himself that this was Atlantis, where strange things happened all the time. Not to mention that, every once in a while, he proved himself capable of sensitivity levels bordering on telepathy.

So it was with a vague sense of unease that Rodney closed his locker. Heart pounding, he glanced over his shoulder. And there it was in the shadows at the far corner of his room; a shape, dark and lean, just lurking there watching him. The sight of it so terrified him that it had him shrieking and then leaping back, doing his best to flatten himself against the wall.

"Oh God, no, no, no, please tell me I'm dreaming," Rodney whispered, scrubbing at his eyes frantically before taking another look.

But, yes, it was definitely _there_! He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

"Whatever you are, I'm extremely well armed and an excellent shot!" Rodney threw it out there with all the bravado he could muster. Though deep down he was praying it was dark enough for the thing not to notice he was actually naked and that the only weapon he had on him was a bar of expensive chocolate. "Also, I'm very well trained in hand to hand combat, so you might as well just give up," he added desperately.

The thing in the shadows took a step forward growling, "Rodney!"

And, dear God, it was worse that he thought! The thing knew his name. The Wraith had finally figured out how vital he was to the mission, so they'd specifically sent something out to get him. His heart picked up the pace till it reached jackhammer speed, and when Rodney saw the thing take yet _another_ step forward, and all he could think was: ' _Oh my God, it's going to kill me! I'm dead, I'm so dead, I'm—_ '

"Rodney," it growled again. "Holy _*shit*_!"

It struck Rodney then that the voice sounded husky and smooth, not Wraith-like at all. In fact, it was strangely familiar; and when it said, "Is that _*real*_?" he blinked and he shook his head. Because, yes, that was indeed John Sheppard stepping out of the shadows.

"Colonel!" Rodney let out a huge sigh of relief. Peeling himself away from the wall, he took several steps toward John. "Oh thank God, it _is_ you! I thought it was—" he waved the bar of chocolate at him before realising how ridiculous it was to brandish that as a weapon. "Never mind," he muttered, whipping it behind his back because the last thing he wanted to do was to _share_. "So what are you doing in here anyway? Other than taking several years off my life," he went on, feeling quite bitter about it now. "Which, by the way, I would appreciate if you never did that again!"

When John didn't respond, Rodney had another one of those rare moments of sensitivity during which he realized that the conversation they were having was unusually one-sided. "Colonel?" he asked him, a little worried now.

Again, John didn't respond; he barely even blinked.

And that was when it occurred to him that John was in fact staring at his naked body, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed quite specifically at a point just above the tops of his thighs.

"Oh, no!" The fear came hurtling back, making his heart pound and his hands shake. "No, don't do this to me!" Rodney yelled as he started searching for the clothes he'd dropped even though he had a feeling that it was already too late. He knew that look; he'd seen it a thousand times on a thousand different soldiers before him.

And when John, still staring, finally whispered, "Rodney," in a voice full of shock and awe, Rodney's shoulders slumped even further, because that pretty much confirmed it.

Sheppard knew; somehow he'd found out. Which was probably why he'd been lurking in his quarters in the first place, trying to get a look. And God what was wrong with the military that they couldn't control their curiosity, Rodney thought angrily. What the hell was wrong with all of them?

That sudden burst of fury was enough to shock him out of his initial panic. "Who told you?" he demanded.

"Huh?" John replied intelligently.

"Who told you?" Rodney asked him again, taking extra special care to enunciate his words. Though none of that seemed to make a goddamn difference because Sheppard was still staring at him as though he was speaking in ancient Greek. "Colonel, I asked you a question! Was it Cadman?"

The pathetically slow blink rate he got in response to _that_ question finally convinced him that it was pointless trying to communicate with John in this state. More than that, he realized he probably wasn't going to get anything coherent out of him for at least another five minutes.

So butt naked, Rodney stormed off into his bathroom, swearing furiously all the way over there.

***

With hindsight, he'd always known he couldn't keep something this big hidden forever. Living in a small, closed-off community, it was inevitable that secrets would eventually come to light. But that was precisely why he'd tried so hard! Atlantis was a closed community with very little chance to escape, unless you counted trips off world, which he definitely did not want to do over and above the current mission schedule, or trips back to Earth on the Daedalus. And, God, that was exactly what they were going to do to him. Now that John knew, everyone would find out, and they would ship him back to Earth with no hope of ever seeing Atlantis again.

Rodney pressed his forehead to the sink, trying not to hyperventilate. The last time someone had found out, he'd been transferred to *Russia* for God's sake, in the middle of fucking winter! 'Let the Russians handle it,' they'd said, and Rodney still had nightmares about how well _that_ had turned out. God, half the reason he'd even jumped at the Antarctica posting was because he'd known the rumours hadn't spread that far. Still it was too late for what might have beens. He'd tried to avoid this; he'd done everything possible to keep his secret hidden. Now, he had to go back out there and face the consequences.

Of course, that was when he noticed that all his towels seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

"Oh that's just great!" Rodney yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "That's fucking perfect! Could this day get any worse?"

Grabbing his washcloth, he used it to cover himself as best he could. Then, head held high, he stepped back into his room, bracing himself for John's reaction.

***

For obvious reasons, he'd never enjoyed being naked in front of other people.

So it was with a calm sort of horror that Rodney noticed that John _hadn't moved an inch_ since he'd left and that John was, in fact, standing there staring at the empty space, which he'd previously occupied. Of course, the minute he stepped back into the room, those eyes just zeroed in on him again.

Rodney found that impressive in a rather disturbing kind of way. He inched further forward into the room, keeping his head held high and as much of his body covered as he could with that minute washcloth. And with an growing sense of fatalism, he watched as John took several slow, deep breaths, seeming to gather himself before saying: "Rodney, *wow*, look at the _size_ of that thing!" in that hushed tone Rodney was coming to loathe.

The shock and awe were still there. He could hear them in everything John said, from the words he'd used to the breathless sound of his voice. God, he could _see_ them in that dazed stare. Only now in John's eyes there was a definite undercurrent of leering. And *that* Rodney decided he could definitely do without.

He shook his head firmly, saying, "No!"

"No, what?"

"Just no!"

"But I haven't—"

"*Yet*, being the operative word," Rodney said flatly. "And rest assured, Colonel, that when you *do* ask, which you will because everyone always asks, the answer will still be no." He bent down, looking for the clothes he'd discarded earlier, and he quite determinedly did not notice how harsh John's breathing suddenly seemed to get. Just as he was about to reach for his boxers, John spoke again.

"Can I touch it?"

" _What_?" Rodney shrieked before jumping back up. "No, you *can't* touch it!"

"Come on, just for a second," John persisted.

"No!" Jutting his chin out, Rodney glared at him. "What part of *no* don't you understand, Colonel?"

John scrunched his mouth up into something, which looked suspiciously like a pout. "I heard you let Carson touch it!"

"He's a doctor!" Rodney yelled.

"Oh, come on, Rodney!"

And _Jesus Christ_ that *was* a whine!

"I thought we were friends," John went on, pouting openly now.

Rodney couldn't believe he was hearing this. "So did I," he said furiously. "But friends respect each other's privacy. Friends do *not* break into each other's rooms, skulking in dark corners to give friends heart-attacks before so clearly crossing every line that could be construed as friendship!"

John crossed his arms, looking defensive and belligerent all at once. "Look, I heard the rumour and I just wanted to see if it was true, that's all," he muttered.

"Will you listen to yourself?" And when John just stood there looking mulish and somewhat _betrayed_ , Rodney threw both hands up in the air. "You know what, never mind, I give up," he snapped, hurling the washcloth right across the room. "So at one time or another, you've asked yourself the question: why is McKay so arrogant? I mean, everyone knows I'm a genius and the smartest man in two galaxies! But how could anyone possibly have such a giant ego, hmm? Well, *this* is why!"

Rodney placed both hands on hips, waving his big secret right in John's face. And a small, insane part of him was crowing with delight at seeing Colonel-surfer-boy-Cool so visibly flustered.

"Yes, I have an incredibly big dick," he went on. "And, *no*, you can't touch it! And do you want to know why? Because you, Colonel Sheppard, are in the United States *MILITARY*. Now I know being obsessed with large, phallic-shaped objects sort of comes with the territory. But this is not a military penis, so none of you have any right to think you can just waltz in here and demand to see it let alone touch it!"

Speech over, Rodney bent down, grabbed his boxers and quickly yanked them on. His T-shirt went on next. Then, feeling a little less exposed though no less bitter, he sniped, "Oh my _God_ , are you _still_ here?"

John shook himself violently, looking as though he'd just woken up from a drunken stupor. "I don't know what the hell just happened back there."

"Of course you don't."

"Because I'm not gay or anything," John continued hurriedly.

Rodney sighed. "No one ever is," he said tiredly.

It was always the same old story. First they wanted to look at it, then they wanted to touch it; and if he ever made the mistake of letting _that_ happen, touching always led to more. Which was when things would spiral out of control. Then afterwards it was always 'Damn you, Mckay, you seduced me with your huge gay-making cock'! And right then, the man he'd come to think of as one of his closest friends was about two steps away from that on his big gay freak out.

"Because when I said *touch it*, it was just so—well, only because you let Carson—I mean—"

" _Colonel_ ," Rodney interrupted him firmly.

"Okay, I should probably go now."

Rodney almost felt sorry for him, but not enough to stop himself sniping, "That's the first intelligent thing you've said all year!"

***

After John left, Rodney locked his door. He changed algorithms, and he moved control crystals. Then he wrote a complicated seven tier encryption programme, laced with voice commands only _he_ could activate. It was some of his best work, and he couldn't help feeling a little proud at what he'd accomplished in such a short space of time.

Finally, before he went to bed, Rodney took the _extra_ precaution of telling Atlantis in no uncertain terms that she was not to let John Sheppard into his quarters under any circumstances.

It made absolutely no difference.

***

In the middle of the night, Rodney floated up from hazy of dreams of flying only to fall into to the scorching wet feel of a tongue dragging over his balls. After that came suction, wet and slow, on the head of his cock, then around his cock, then up and down, sliding pleasure sweet and slow right into his veins. He pushed up into it, still a little disorientated from a hazy mix of sleep and ecstasy. And when that incredible wet heat just seemed to seal itself around him, he let himself roll in and slide out of it on a wave of pleasure, which left his nipples hard and aching.

Groaning softly, Rodney drew his palms up to them, rubbing over them again and again until the tingling, shivering sensation shot through the rest of his body. Then there was more shivering at the sudden blast of cooler air on his cock. Which was followed by a murmured: "Fuck, Rodney, that's so _hot_!" before he was taken back into warm, wet suction.

And that was just a little too real for him!

So much so that it threw him out of his daze of: 'Hey, cool blowjob dream!' and then dropped him squarely in the middle of that rare but strangely surreal state of: 'Whoa, someone's actually blowing me!' And when Rodney looked down, suddenly he found himself struggling for air and wheezing, "What the— _Sheppard_?"

"Mmmm," John moaned around him, which shouldn't have been enough to take him to the edge. But it sent him hurtling right there, drenching him suddenly in so much heat and pleasure that all he could do was lie there and shudder through it for long, long seconds as the waves of sensation rolled through his stomach and licked up his spine.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" Rodney closed his eyes for a moment, spreading his legs on autopilot, telling himself that the only reason why his fingers were curling in John's hair was to get John to stop. And he was going to stop John any second now, right after his nipples stopped tingling, definitely after John finished sucking that stretch of skin just below the head of his cock which drove him absolutely crazy. And in the end, when he _did_ manage to nudge John off his cock, they were both panting and shaking.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Rodney screamed at him, even though he _knew_ that it was quite possibly the stupidest question he'd ever asked. Not only was it blatantly obvious what John was doing, this wasn't the first time he'd woken up to find some soldier trying to molest him. So Rodney scrambled up the bed as far away from John as he could get, leaving his boxers lying in tatters in the middle of it. And, _Jesus Christ_ , John had obviously _cut them off him_ while he'd been asleep.

"Rodney, wait!" John licked his lips, looking dazed and a little guilty and _exactly_ like someone who'd broken into his friend's room to suck him off without permission. "Don't go," he whispered softly, so clearly turned on. And when John started crawling up the bed after him, Rodney had to try very hard to convince his cock that it did _not_ make all the decisions in his life and that friendship wasn't worth a blowjob.

"No, no, no, you stay away from me," he told John, backing further away.

But John just kept on coming, staring at him through dark, lust-glazed eyes. "I could take care of that for you," he offered, looking pointedly at Rodney's cock, watching it twitch and drip under his gaze.

"Fuck, don't _say_ things that!" Rodney shuddered, hit by the sudden wave of sense memory at how it felt to have John sucking him. He was painfully hard, still wet from John's mouth, and _God_ he wanted back in there right now. But he also knew if this went any further it could potentially destroy their relationship. So he tried being reasonable and he said, "Look, you're obviously high or on crack or something! So why don't you just leave, and we'll forget this ever happened, okay?"

"I don't think I can do that, Rodney," John admitted quietly with such naked desperation in his voice that Rodney could tell John was miles past reason. And placing a hand on either side of his hips, John leant down over his groin, taking a deep breath. " _God_ , you smell so good," he whispered.

Rodney whined high in his throat before reaching behind himself, fumbling for the wall and then pressing his back against it. There was nowhere else to go because John was on him again burying his face between his legs.

"Just once," John breathed against him, blowing warm air over his skin, making him shiver. Then John's fingers were reaching for his balls, stroking him just the way he liked it, leaving a trail of pleasure blazing everywhere he touched, and Rodney found himself giving an involuntary thrust upwards.

"Oh yeah, come on, let me have it," John crooned to him, snaking out his tongue to lap at him.

And Rodney pushed up again; he couldn't help it. John's mouth was hovering right there, right over him, lips red and wet and open for him, so fucking open; and _God_ he hadn't had his cock sucked in close to _two years_. So he had to push in. Just one more time, he promised himself, sliding into that heat, feeling John curl his tongue around him before humming and sighing, clearly having the time of his life.

And just like that Rodney caved in. "Yeah, okay, go for it," he whispered, tired of not letting John do what they both wanted him to do. And then he found himself gasping: " _Fuck_!"

Because John seemed to take that order literally, opening his mouth wide and going down on him, all the way down. Too fast for both of them, too much for John, who choked a little on his length, eyes watering at the corners. So Rodney had to soothe him and then he had to train him on how to take him in. Slowly, so slowly, with soft words and gentle hands until Rodney started groaning, "Oh my God, that's—that's—oh _God_ —" when John got it at last, sucking and swallowing on the way down before dragging his tongue slowly on the way up.

The fight completely went out of him then. His thighs fell open, leaving John with that perfect slot to slide himself into. And soon John was _grinding_ his hips down into the mattress with the same need that had _him_ bucking and writhing and combing his fingers through John's hair. And all Rodney could do was struggle to survive it, listening to the ragged sounds John kept making as John flayed him with pleasure so intense he thought he would _die_ from it.

Until John pulled off him all of a sudden, whining, "Rodney, oh Christ—" in a way that sounded absolutely broken. Then John was biting him on the thigh and shivering and grinding down hard with his hips, so obviously coming his brains out.

And that just did it for Rodney. He lay there shuddering, trying to breathe as ecstasy rolled through his body and then pulsed out of him in slow, sweet waves, all over John's face and hair.

***

Minutes later, John could barely look at him.

He'd tried to leave almost immediately afterwards. But because they were _or had been_ friends, Rodney couldn't let John rush out of his room with his hair spattered with come and his BDUs soaking wet at the groin. So that left them both sitting right there on his bed barely looking at each other, both of them struggling to find something to say.

It was at times like these when Rodney really hated his cock.

"Well," he began quietly. "So this is a little awkward."

"You think?" John snapped.

Rodney glared at him. "Hey, _I'm_ not the one who broke into someone's room to _molest_ him!"

"Yeah, about that . . . " John rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous way. "Okay, so, maybe that thing back there—" and there was some vague hand waving, which Rodney took to mean 'blowjob'. "Maybe that wasn't one hundred percent straight of me," John whispered.

For once in his life, Rodney was struck dumb.

"I still don't think I'm gay or anything," John went on, ears bright red. "Just maybe, you know, not one hundred percent straight."

His speechlessness didn't last long. "Oh congratulations, Colonel! Did you figure that out all by yourself? Or did sucking me off help you with that?"

John flinched. "Rodney—"

"No!" Rodney snapped because this conversation was about to slide right into 'blame the big gay cock' territory; he could feel it. "I do not want to hear one more excuse from you about this! And by the way, if you ever want to do this again, you will shut up _right now_!"

In a move that completely surprised him, John kept his mouth shut.

"Huh!" Rodney said after a while. Maybe their friendship would survive after all.

  
The End.  



End file.
